Green-eyed Monster
by BlackHawk's Child
Summary: "O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock/ The meat it feeds on." -Iago (Othello; Act 3, Scene 3, lines 165-167) All trolling and flaming are reported and then ignored. So please, if you don't like what I write, don't read it. I don't write exclusively for anyone unless I say otherwise.


**Gift for marvelousbones. Hope everyone enjoys this :)**

" _ **O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the**_ _ **green**_ _ **-**_ _ **eyed monster**_ _ **which doth mock/ The meat it feeds on."  
-Iago (Othello; Act 3, Scene 3, lines 165-167)**_

Clint took a deep breath. And then another. And he kept up the pattern. He knew he shouldn't be… whatever this was. Jealous? Insecure? Afraid? Whatever you wanted to call it, he was being irrational. He didn't have a claim to her. No one did. Why would someone like him, a washed-up old carnie, ever have a chance with someone like her? The infamous _Black Widow_ needed no man. Hell, she could kill him in 129 ways without any weapons – he knew this because she once listed them during a stake-out in Siberia. And he'd been curious. Sometimes, he wished he hadn't asked her. Because sometimes, knowing all the ways she could kill him, he wished she would kill him instead of his unrequited feelings for her killing him as slowly as they were currently doing. He couldn't even sleep without thinking about her. About how she felt in his arms when they posed as married couples when undercover. About how it would feel like to run his lips and hands over her various curves, her skin naked under his. But he would never have to chance to do that. Because he would never be good enough for her.

His partner in question was currently sparring with the oh-so-perfect _Captain America_ in the base's main gym. Clint was doing weights, having to recover from an injury on his last mission before he could do any sparring. So, Natasha had asked Steve to train with her instead. Her _Black Widow_ serum gave her just as much abilities as Steve's _Captain America_ serum gave him. But because Natasha had learned her moves before the administration of her serum, it made her a better fighter. And she had pinned Steve so many times it was becoming a sick joke now.

Clint had caught Steve's eyes wandering over Natasha's curves just as many times as the red-head had pinned the first Avenger. Natasha was wearing tight fitting clothes; black short shorts, a short grey crop top and a black sports bra underneath. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail. Her wrists and ankles were wrapped in black wraps. And her outfit left little to the imagination. Sweat ran down over her exposed pale skin. And Clint hated how Steve's eyes wandered over her body. But Clint's jealousy blinded him to the teenage-like curiosity in Steve's eyes; the Captain was still unused to the 21st Century attitude to women's skimpy clothing.

The archer made his way over to the thread mills, deciding it was better for his mental health than to watch his partner flirt with their team leader. He put his earphones in and started at a steady pace. He tried to avoid watching Natasha. He really did. But he couldn't. And he didn't know if she knew about the looks he gave her 90% of the time. If she was letting him down easy by not mentioning it. Or if she simply didn't know that her best friend had fallen head over heels in love with her and he had no way out of the bottomless pit that was unrequited love.

When Natasha pinned Steve, yet again, straddling the Captain's waist, Clint had had enough. He stopped the thread mill, climbed off, grabbed his stuff and left. He had the best eyesight in the Goddamn world. He knew what flirting was when he saw it – especially when it was flung in his face like a bug hitting a windscreen in the middle of the highway…

* * *

Natasha quickly glanced up when she heard the gym doors slam shut, her smug smirk of beating _Captain America_ – yet again – fading when she noticed her partner was no longer present. Where the fuck was he going? The red-head quickly climbed off of the Captain. "Good try, Rogers. But still not quick enough to catch me," she teased good heartedly, still glancing around the room to figure out what had made Clint leave so abruptly.

Steve nodded and sat up, failing to keep his eyes off of Natasha's curves; he had imagined what Peggy was like if she had ever chosen to wear that at any stage of his life. And the fact that he saw Natasha like this when they were sparing made him uncomfortable; his 20th Century upbringing didn't appreciate seeing a woman like that when their hearts obviously belonged to another. When she looked down at him, he easily averted his eyes; she had already shown that she was more than capable of kicking his ass while sparring. He did not want to see what she could do when she was anyway angry. "I'll catch you eventually, Red. It's not my fault that you're smaller than me, physically."

"Size and gender has nothing to do with it, you old fossil. And you know it. Want to try again tomorrow?" she offered even though all she wanted to do right now was go and find her partner and figure out what the fuck was wrong with him? Was his shoulder paining him? Were his hearing aids acting up? She needed to find him. Quickly.

"Sure. Same time?" Steve replied, standing up as well. He could see Natasha was worried about something. And given the fact that Clint had stormed out of the room in a hurry, Steve didn't need to guess who. He had a feeling that Natasha was going to cancel on him tomorrow.

Natasha nodded before grabbing her bag, towel and water bottle and heading towards the women's lockers to get a shower. And then she was heading to her partner's apartment in Bed Stuy. What the fuck had happened to them?

* * *

Clint had changed into a grey hoodie and black tracksuit bottoms when he reached his apartment in Bed Stuy, keeping his earphones in. Then he left again to go for the run he hadn't completed at base. He ran five miles one way before running a long ten miles back to his apartment, taking the scenic route. And it hadn't done a bit to calm his racing thought.

' _Why would she need anyone like me when she has Mr Fucking Perfect Captain America ready to do whatever she wanted just so he could get in her pants?_ ' he thought bitterly to himself as he climbed up the stairs to his apartment; he lived on the top floor penthouse, which he had renovated over the past few years, making it a sleek and stylish apartment (and off of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files). It still had a comfy and homely feel to the design but it was better than the dump it had been before he bought the building and renovated it for tenants.

' _She deserves the best of the best. Why not have Captain America as well? The guy clearly knows that if he asks for something he can usually get it. Why not have the woman I have fallen helplessly in love with over the past ten years too? It's not like I matter to anyone nowadays anyway!_ '

Clint was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't noticed the figure sitting on his couch, watching him with concern written clearly over her face…

* * *

Natasha easily got inside Clint's apartment, given the fact that he had given her a key for emergency circumstances. She was defining this as an emergency. He wasn't picking up his phone, no one at the base had seen him. And she was worried. It wasn't like Clint to suddenly up and leave without telling anyone. Particularly without telling her. They were partners, best friends. They told each other everything. Sometimes, not right away but they would eventually find the right words to use. But lately he had been avoiding her like the plague. Ever since… ever since Loki got in his brain and messed around a bit, Clint had been distancing himself from her. From them. It was subtle.

But she noticed it.

And Fury had starting teaming her with Rogers and Rumlow's S.T.R.I.K.E. team more and more. And she was sick of how the team kept watching her like she was meant to be shared out among them like a pack of wolves sharing meat. (Steve never looked at her like that, his heart still too caught up in the past for him to pay her any attention. Nor would his upbringing.) Clint never looked at her like she was a prize he could claim and share out. And she had caught him looking more than once. But he never looked at her like she was some sort of trophy. He treated her equally. Treated her with respect and dignity. He looked at her like she was human. He treated her like another human being. But the looks he gave her… His eyes held emotions she had never believed in. Emotions she once thought had been taken from her because of her life in the Red Room. Emotions that she only ever felt when she was with Clint.

Was that why he had left earlier? Was he jealous of the time she was spending with Steve? Was he jealous of the fact that most people believed Steve was replacing Clint as her partner? She didn't know. But she planned to find out. And to make it right again between her and her best friend.

When he entered the apartment, two hours after she arrived, Natasha was beyond worried. He was dripping wet, having ran the streets in the pouring rain. He was slightly out of breath, showing that, despite not being a super solider or having superpowers, he was very fit for a normal human being. She watched as he walked through his apartment, muttering random words, like he was having quite the conversation with himself. About what, she had no idea. Which to her showed just how distant they had been lately. And that was just unacceptable to her.

"Clint?" she called out, watching Clint quickly spin around, reaching for his ankle holster before realising that it was only her…

* * *

"Clint?" he heard, making him quickly spin around to the source of the voice, reaching for the gun in his ankle holster. A voice he knew all too well. A voice which haunted all of his dreams, whether good or bad.

"Tasha? What are you doing here?" he asked, surprise clearly written over his face.

Natasha frowned. "You left. Without saying a word. I came to check up on you, make sure that you were okay," she replied, frowning at him as he looked away. "Clint, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I didn't want to interrupt your time with your new best friend. I obviously don't level up to the likes of the mighty _Captain America_ ," he replied, his tone so bitter he could give a lemon a run for its money.

Natasha's frown deepened; so this was what it was about? "Sorry to burst your bubble, Barton, but Fury's been teaming Rogers and me up because you've been avoiding me like the plague ever since the Battle of New York. Maybe because I've been following orders while wondering why the fuck my best friend doesn't look me in the eye anymore. Did you ever think that maybe today I wanted to spar with you but because you were injured I was left sparring with someone who I don't trust half as much as my partner? No. Because you've been stuck in your own world of pain that you never reached out to the one person who probably knows what the fuck you're going through! It's like you aren't even Clint Barton anymore! Where the fuck is my best friend, Clint? Just what the fuck happened to us?!" she replied, her voice rising with each word. She watched Clint pause at her words, taking them in. She saw as he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

"Can I get a shower before we talk about anything further?" he asked, turning and smirking at her weakly as he gestured to his soaking wet clothes.

Natasha had almost forgotten about his wet attire. She sat back down and gestured carelessly down the hallway. "It's your home, Clint. You can do whatever you want," she replied. He nodded and walked down the hallway, leaving her to flick through Netflix. She watched him disappear down the hall. Although she hid it well, she was secretly wishing that she could join him in the shower. She could picture him clearly (she seen him naked more times than she could count, always for medical reasons. Well, except for Budapest. But they clearly remembered Budapest differently); the water running down his sculpted body from years of work and archery, his strong muscles working together as he washed his hair and soaped up his body, the suds gliding down over his broad shoulders, firmly muscled arms, barely hidden abs. On so many different occasions she had pictured herself following the same path as the water and suds, her tongue trailing down his chest and abs, tracing each scar, dimple and crescent. One of her go-to daydreams when she needed to get herself off was helping him wash himself, her small pale hands running over all his tanned skin, over his solid muscles. His roughened fingers tracing every one of her curves and scars.

' _Natasha, snap out of it!_ ' she berated herself as she felt a familiar ache between her thighs. An ache she could only ever associate with Clint. She groaned and tossed her head against the back of the couch. She needed to get a hold of herself. She couldn't let herself get lost in thoughts about her partner naked in the shower and doing explicit things to and with him. No matter how much she wanted to. She turned on _Downtown Abbey_ , paying little attention to it as she waited for her best friend…

* * *

Clint groaned as he let the hot water pour down on his exhausted body, his head tossed back against the tiled wall. How did he not notice Natasha sitting on his couch? Was he that lost in his own thoughts that she had managed to escape his notice? Closing his eyes, the archer sighed. They had almost gone at each other's throats simply because he was fucking jealous of Captain Fucking America! What had happened to him and Tasha? What had happened to Black Widow and Hawkeye, S.T.R.I.K.E. Team Delta, Barton and Romanoff? He didn't even recognised them anymore. He'd avoided her for a while until he was sure Loki no longer had control over him. Until he was sure that he couldn't hurt her. That he wasn't his father. Had he pushed her too far away from him? Did she really feel like she didn't know who he was anymore?

He couldn't help but think back to Budapest. To when they finally became a team. When they could finally open up to each other, trust each other. And the first, and only, time they slept together. Where had all that gone? Had his distance really taken all of that trust and thrown it away?

* * *

" _You still trust me after everything that I've just told you?" Natasha asked, her eyes wide in surprise as Clint nodded._

" _You were every bit a victim as your targets, Natasha. You were the tool, not the brain. You didn't decide that people needed to die. You were used like a puppet. You didn't want to do any of the things you did. You feel guilt, you feel remorse. No monster feels like that. So, yes, I do trust you. Because after everything that you've just told me tells me that if you had a chance, you'd go back and make sure that you never had to hold a gun, or kill, or seduce," Clint replied, smiling gently as he rested his hand on top of Natasha's, giving her room to pull away if she wanted to, she could._

 _Natasha looked down at their hands, thinking about Clint's words. He squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly. Suddenly, she stood up, looking down at Clint. "I want to go clubbing. We've finished the mission, given our reports to Coulson. I think we deserve to have some drinks and fun before getting transport tomorrow."_

 _Clint couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. After three years, he really shouldn't be surprised by her constant mood swings. "Okay. Clubbing it is…"_

* * *

 _Natasha gasped as Clint pushed her up against the hotel door. Their lips met hungrily as the red-head wrapped her arms around his strong neck. Clint groaned as he took his key card out of his pocket, fumbling to open the door as Natasha continued to distract him with her perfect body._

" _If you want us to stop, you need to tell me now, Natasha," the archer whispered against his partner's lips, pulling away slightly so they could catch their breaths. He would gladly give up his oxygen if it meant that he could keep kissing Natasha. Natasha, not the Black Widow._

" _I want this. At least. Tonight. Just tonight," Natasha whispered in reply before attaching her lips to Clint's once more, attacking his lips hungrily. Clint returned the kiss and slowly brought his hands to the hem of his partner's little black dress. He grabbed her thighs, lifting her up and letting her wrap her perfect legs around his waist.. If tonight was all she wanted from him, he was going to make sure that it would a night she would never forget…_

* * *

Clint turned the water to lukewarm. Some memories of Budapest (well, before the mission came back to bite them in the ass) were memories better suited for when you had no company. Or when the main focus of the memories was sitting out in his living-room, waiting for a serious conversation about them. Not the time to be fantasizing about your best friend.

Sighing, he shut off the shower and grabbed a towel. He quickly dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. He grabbed a smaller towel as he walked out into his bedroom, towel-drying his hair as he looked in his wardrobe for something to wear. Frowning, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, as well as a pair of boxers. Pulling them on quickly, he threw his used towels into the hamper and decided it was about time that he faced the music. He wanted to show Natasha that she still had her best friend…

* * *

Natasha lifted her head as Clint walked down the hallway. She raised an eyebrow when he walked into the kitchen, her eyes widening when he walked into the living-room with a bottle of Russian Premium Vodka.

Clint noticed her raised eyebrow. "I think that we both need a bit of alcohol in us if we're going to have this conversation, Tasha," he explained, setting two tumblers on the coffee table in front of them. He offered her the bottle when she nodded her head in agreement. She took it and poured them double shots, waiting for her partner to sit down before grabbing her own glass.

Natasha knocked down her shots of Vodka before Clint had even brought his glass to his mouth, the red-head not even flinching as the alcohol burned the back of her throat. "What happened to us, Clint?" she asked as he knocked back his shots.

Clint shrugged. "I became distant after the whole New Mexico incident. I was afraid Loki was lurking somewhere in my head. And I didn't want to hurt you if I lost control again. So I distanced myself from you. Which was the wrong play. I know that now," he answered honestly, twirling his tumbler in his hand. "I messed up. And I hurt us. That's on me, Tasha."

Natasha frowned. "Clint…" she whispered, at a lost for what to say to the archer. "New York and New Mexico weren't your fault. The attack on the Helicarrier wasn't your fault. Just like what I did in the Red Room wasn't my fault," she told him, paraphrasing words he once told her. He looked so doubtful of himself. "What about earlier? When you left the gym? Were you serious about Rogers being my new best friend?" she asked, frowning when Clint's hand tightened around his glass. "Clint?"

"Yes," he whispered, his voice low and barely above a whisper. "I guess I feel like you're leaving me behind. I am, after all, a washed up, old carnie. How do I compare to the Captain America/" he added, pouring himself another double shot and handing the bottle to Natasha, downing his drink. If he was going to be honest with her, he was going to have to be somewhat tipsy because he sure as hell wasn't strong enough to face rejection from the woman who had him caught up in her web.

Natasha took the bottle but she couldn't take her eyes off her partner. Did he really think that she was leaving him behind? Forgetting about him, after everything he had done for her? After he had wormed his way behind every layer of protection she had made herself, he felt like she'd swapped him in like a computer for the next, better model? She frowned and glanced down at her glass. When did Clint Barton become so insecure in himself? What the fuck had Loki and the Avengers done to him to make him think so low of himself? To think so low of them?

Suddenly she had no desire to drink. No desire to do anything but make Clint realise that he was the closest person to her. To show him that she remembered their night in Budapest and that she never regretted one second of it. Natasha placed the bottle and her glass on the coffee table, taking a few steadying breaths as she thought about the different ways she could tell him the truth without offending him or hurting him by making his recovering shoulder injury worse.

Clint watched Natasha curiously. She hadn't poured herself another drink (Natasha never passed up the opportunity of proper Russian vodka), she was sitting on the edge of the couch, and her face had her thinking look written all over it. He didn't know whether he should be worried for her or for himself. "Natasha?" he prompted, placing a hand on her shoulder, rubbing a soft circle on her exposed skin. He had to push the thoughts of her soft skin to the back of his mind.

Natasha bit her bottom lip before turning her body and suddenly kissing Clint on the lips, taking him by complete surprise. She moved her lips over his for a moment or two before starting to pull back when he didn't respond; did she just ruin the best thing that had ever happened to her? But Clint dropped his glass carelessly on the table and kissed her back, just as their lips had parted slightly. He kissed her as deeply as he kissed her in Budapest. Just as loving as he had that night in 2007. Natasha let him pull her into his lap, moving her own knees so she could straddle him, her arms finding their way around his neck. She brought her hands to his hair, her nails digging in when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth as she moaned her approval into his after he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Clint couldn't believe what was happening. Natasha was kissing him like he was the only thing keeping her alive. She sure as hell was the person keeping him alive. He was still wrapping his head around the fact that Natasha had initiated a kiss with him as they pulled apart to catch their breaths. She had kissed him. Outside of undercover work. The Natasha Romanoff kissed him. He thought he'd tied and gone to heaven, if he'd actually believed in those things.

Natasha rested her forehead against Clint's, both of them breathing heavily. She kept her eyes closed, not knowing what to do next. For the first time in her life, Natasha Romanoff did not know what to do. Simply because she didn't want to lose the one person who never cared whether she was the _Black Widow_ or not; he cared about Natasha Romanoff first.

"Tasha?" he whispered, opening his eyes to look at her. She was still breathing hard, her eyes closed; did she regret kissing him? Did she want him too?

"I've wanted to do that since Budapest," she confessed, making Clint's eyes widen in surprise. She opened her eyes and smiled at him with a shrug. "You don't need to be jealous of Steve, Clint. He's not the one who keeps me awake at night," she added, pecking his lips softly.

Clint couldn't believe what he was hearing. This had to be a dream. He wasn't this lucky. He wasn't some movie hero who got the girl at the end of the movie. He cupped her cheeks gently, making her look him in the eye. "I thought love was for children?" he whispered, needing to hear Natasha prove him wrong.

"Because sometimes to grow up, you need to be a child at times," she whispered, repeating words he had once said to her. She brought one hand to cup his cheek, running her thumb over his bottom lip. "And I'm sick of lying to myself and to you," she added, leaning forward and kissing him again.

This time he wasn't caught off guard. Clint kissed back with the same enthusiasm as Natasha, bringing one hand to her hair while his free arm wrapped around her waist again. He groaned her name against her lips, parting his when she sucked on his bottom lip. He moaned when she grinded down on him, her hips undulating over his. "Tasha," he groaned, breaking the kiss so he could kiss his way down her neck. He brought his hands to her hips, pulling her closer to him. "Tasha." He was repeating her name like a benediction. He'd waited seven years to be this close to her again.

Natasha moaned his name as he marked her neck with his marks. She bent her head so she could brush her lips over the shell of his ear. He pulled away from her neck and groaned her name out loud. She grinned and nipped on his earlobe, slowly making her way down his neck, marking his skin like he had marked hers. She pulled back so she could strip herself of her T-shirt and camisole, grinning when Clint's breath hitched in his throat as he took in her appearance; she was wearing a purple lace bra from La Perla. Her scar just above her hip from 2009 was clearly visible but Clint saw it as a sign that she had gone through yet another trauma and had survived it.

Suddenly, Clint stood up with Natasha in his arms, grinning when she wrapped her legs around his waist to make sure she didn't fall – not that he'd let her fall. He walked down the hallway until he reached his bedroom. Natasha kept kissing and sucking on his skin as he moved, making it difficult for him to concentrate. But he managed to get inside his bedroom, placing Natasha on the bed. She smirked up at his as she leaned up on her elbows, watching him as he quickly stripped himself of his own T-shirt. She greedily ran her eyes over his body, smirking when he caught her watching him.

Clint held his hands out as he climbed on to the bed, straddling her legs. "See something you like, Tasha?" he whispered, leaning down and brushing his lips over hers.

"I've always seen plenty I like in you," she whispered against his lips. She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. "I want you, Clint," she whispered against his lips.

Clint smiled and gently pushed her down onto the bed. He pulled one of her legs over his hips, grinding down against her as her free hand grasped at his bicep. It had been too long since the last time they'd done this. Too long since he'd held her in his arms like this.

Natasha pushed her hips up against his, smiling as he groaned. She reached down between them, undoing the button of her black skinny jeans, thankful that she'd taken off her boots in the living-room. She smirked as he helped her strip the denim off her body. He broke the kiss and pulled her jeans down her perfect legs, kissing his way down her skin, skipping her brilliant breasts to nip at the skin of her stomach teasingly.

She gasped his name, bringing her hands down to grasp at his hair as he moved down her body. He tossed her jeans somewhere over his shoulder, bringing his hands back up to her body. His tanned skin contrasted greatly to her pale skin. He grasped her thighs as he kissed his way up from her bikini line, kissing her hard as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Clint," she murmured as they broke the kiss, Clint's hands sliding under her back. He easily unclasped her bra, pulling it off and tossing it somewhere on the floor. He leaned down and took one peaked nipple in his mouth, sucking greedily on her flesh. He brought a free hand up to her other breast, his fingers tugging on her nipple, making her arch up into him. She tossed her head back as he spent equal time on each, her breathing quickening at his actions. Her fingers found his hair, pulling almost too hard when he teasingly bit down on her nipple. "Oh God, yes."

Clint grinned against her skin before slowly pulling away to smirk up at her. "I don't think I'm God, Tasha," he teased, smirking when she playfully smacked his shoulder, shaking her head at him.

"Hurry up, Clint," she muttered instead, smirking when his eyes widen as she continued, "I remember how good you were with your hands and mouth in Budapest Marriott Hotel."

"So you do remember that night?" he whispered, surprise evident in his words. "Why didn't you say so?" he asked, a small from crossing his face.

Natasha bit her bottom lip before admitting, "Because I was afraid of rejection."

Clint shook his head and stole a kiss from her. "I could never reject you, Tasha," he whispered against her lips.

Natasha smiled. "I know that now," she answered, breaking the kiss to push at his shoulders. "Now, were your skills in Budapest a one-time thing or are you really that good?" he teased, making Clint smirk smugly.

"Sweetheart, by the time I'm finished, you will be assured my skills are all for you," he replied, gripping her La Perla thong, pulling it up to add friction to her clit while he nuzzled her sex with his nose teasingly. She gasped as he teasingly ran his tongue over her through the fabric. She bucked her hips when he pulled her thong to the side and tasted her, using the hand that had been pulling her thong up against her to pin her body to the bed while he took his time exploring her.

Clint groaned as he tasted her. Her thong was thoroughly soaked from her juices. He pushed two fingers inside her, crooking them upwards while dragging his tongue along her. One of Natasha's hands flew to grasp at the sheets, moaning his name loudly as he feasted on her. Her hips undulating under his mouth, the red-head losing her ability to control herself as he pleased her with his mouth.

"Clint. Clint. Clint. Yes. Yes. Clint," she pleaded, moaning as he pushed a third finger inside her. He moved his fingers at a steady pace, pushing them upwards to drive her mad. Her fluttering walls were a sure sign she was so close, so close to coming for him. When he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking hard. And it was all she needed to come hard. She screamed his name as she came, her thighs coming up to clench around his head as she rode out her orgasm.

Clint continued to lap at her as she rode out her orgasm. He didn't pay any attention to the fact that her literal killer thighs tightened around his head; if he was to die right there and then, he would die a happy man to die as a result pleasing Natasha so thoroughly.

If Natasha let Clint continue, she was sure that he was going to push her into another orgasm. And as much as she was greedy for another one, she wanted to give her lover the same attention he had so kindly bestowed on her. She reached down and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him up so she could kiss him. She moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, her nails digging into his scalp when she gripped at his hair.

Suddenly, Natasha flipped them over so she was on top. Breaking the kiss, she smirked at him mischievously. "My turn," she whispered, leaning down and dragging her lips down his body. She was going to have fun without making him come. At least not yet.

Clint groaned her name loudly as Natasha made her way down his body, stripping him off his pants and boxers as she did. She sucked and nipped on his skin, sneakily bringing one hand down to grip his cock firmly as she nipped playfully on his hip. "Fuck. Tasha. Don't tease."

Natasha smiled devilishly up at Clint and sat on her knees, thankful that he had parted his legs to allow her to accomplish such a feat. She pushed her hair over one shoulder so it wouldn't get in her way while pleasing him with her mouth. She caught him staring at her when she smirked up at him.

She sent him a warm smile, trailing her nails over his stomach, making him relax. She bent down and ran her tongue along his whole length, making him swear loudly in reply. She repeated it again, swirling her tongue around the head, just to tease him. To make him realise that she was going to drive him insane. His resulting groan of pleasure echoed in her ears. She smirked smugly; she loved the fact that she was making him make these sounds.

"Tasha. Fuck. Please, sweetheart," he pleaded; if she teased him too much, they weren't going to make it to the main act.

Natasha slowly pulled off of his length, smirking up at him as she continued to drag her hand along him. "Vot is vong, Agent Barton? Is the Russian agent too good for?" she teased, playing up her old Russian accent. She smirked when he growled at her before squealing in surprise when Clint suddenly pulled her up his body so he could claim her lips once more.

Clint rolled them around so he was back on top of her, kissing her hungrily, deeply. Claiming her mouth as his. He caught her wrists, pinning them to the pillow above her head and broke the kiss, nuzzling her jawline playfully. "Tasha. Can I make love to you?" he whispered, kissing up and down her neck softly.

Natasha nodded, twisting her head to catch Clint's lips softly. "Please. Please, Clint. Make love to me," she whispered against his lips.

Clint kept her wrists pinned with one hand, using his other hand to grab his cock firmly, stroking it slowly as he pressed his velvet head against her clit. "How much do you want me Natasha? How much do you want me inside you? Stretching you up? Filling you up? Is that what you want?"

Natasha gasped an affirmative along with Clint's name at his teasing action. The red-head was getting wetter at the thought of her archer sliding into her, claiming her body once again after seven years of his absence. She bit her bottom lip as she watched her lover stroke his cock while rubbing against her clit. He was doing this just to tease her – he wanted her to beg him to make love to her.

Clint smirked smugly at Natasha's reaction to his teasing, watching the red-head's lips part as she waited in anticipation. "You like that, Tasha?" the archer taunted as he rubbed the head of his cock along her slit before slapping it against her clit gently and teasingly. He didn't want Natasha to beg for him in a sadistic way but rather to hear her verbally tell him what she wanted him to do to her.

Natasha, in realising what Clint wanted her to do - say - moaned her lover's name sinfully as he continued to slide the head of his cock over her clit. "Please. Clint. Make love to me. Clint," the red-head moaned, bucking her hips up slightly to try to get Clint exactly where she wanted him.

Clint growled possessively as he slowly slid his cock into Natasha's cunt. They both moaned in mutual pleasure as Clint filled up Natasha's pussy, his forehead resting against hers. The red-head wrapped her legs around his waist, sending him deep inside her cunt. He let her hands go, thrusting deeper inside her by letting her wrists go so he could pull her closer to him.

"Natasha. Mine?" Clint whispered breathlessly as he refrained from moving until Natasha said that one word he wanted to hear fall from her lips.

"Yours. Fuck. Clint," Natasha moaned sinfully in Russian. She was rewarded by Clint moving inside her once more, nipping on her pulse point teasingly. His left hand gripped her hip - almost - hard enough to bruise her while his right massaged her tits firmly. He grinned as he whispered in her ear, whispered all the naughty things he wanted to do to her, nearly every dirty fantasy he's ever had about her. And she moaned in agreement to his words.

"That's right," Clint whispered into her ear with a breathless chuckle. "My Tasha. My dirty Tasha. You love it when I take you, Tasha, don't you?" he whispered as he moved to hit her G-spot repeatedly.

"Oh god yes," Natasha moaned in Russian, tossing her head back in pleasure as he hit all the right spots inside her cunt. The red-head ran her nails down the length of her lover's back in order to grip his ass, wanting to get his cock as deep inside of her as was humanely possible. She had missed this, not just the sex but finally being near the one person she truly trusted was. Beyond her words. She untangled her left leg from around his waist and hooked it up onto his right shoulder, making Clint groan in pleasure in response to her actions.

"Natasha. Fuck. You're so flexible," Clint groaned as he buried his face in the crook of the red-head's neck. He continued to thrust into Natasha with deep, precise movements. He nipped and sucked on her skin, thrusting harder against her. He groaned her name in pleasure, needing her closer to him.

"I'm a trained ballerina and gymnast, remember?" Natasha whispered into his ear. She brought her lips to nibble and suck on the sensitive skin right behind his earlobe just as Clint caught her wrists again and pinned them down onto the bed.

"Don't make me tie you up, Tasha," Clint growled against the skin of her neck. The archer moaned as Natasha wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper inside her.

Natasha bit her bottom lip as Clint ran his hands all over her body. He worked their bodies expertly, moving their hips in perfect sync as if they had never been apart. The red-head had never been treated so tenderly and felt so loved and happy, having believed that he would never see her in this way.

She slowly flipped them over so she was in control, her hands resting on his chest for balance while Clint rested his on her hips lovingly and protectively. The red-head kept her eyes on her lover's, unable to stop the moans and whimpers escaping her lips. "Clint. Fuck. Please," the red-head whispered as she rocked her hips slowly against his, rising every now and again to add more pressure on her clit. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," she moaned - begged – not completely sure what she was begging him for at the moment.

Clint grinned at Natasha as he wrapped his left arm around her body, sitting up slightly while he brought his right hand to cup her ass affectionately. He could safely admit that he loved the feeling of her firm ass in his hand. He slowly kissed Natasha chastely before pulling back and whispering softly in Russian, "Tasha… I love you."

Natasha smiled and leaned down, kissing him gently before whispering, "I love you too, Clint. I think I have since Budapest," she whispered, nuzzling his cheek playfully. She smiled when he pulled her closer, his archery roughened hand grasping her ass firmly.

Clint smiled and pulled her closer to his body. "That feeling is mutual," the archer whispered just as Natasha pushed him so he was lying back down on his bed – he so wanted to call it their bed. But that was for another conversation. She rode him at a pace that he knew she was soon going have them falling over the edge.

Clint used both his hands to cup Natasha's ass, using the strength of his arms to help the red-head move up and down on his length. He braced his feet on the bed so he could go deeper inside her with each movement of their hips. The red-head's back arched like her lover's bow, panting in pleasure as she felt him drive himself into her with hard long thrusts.

Clint let himself relax back down into the mattress and held her hips firmly as he drove himself up and into her repeatedly. His thrusts were slow hard but deep, making her mouth fall open in response. Natasha had to bring her hands moved to balance on his chest. She came like that; arched over him, screaming his name and looking like the most beautiful thing Clint had ever seen. He followed soon after her, roaring her name as he spilled his seed inside her. Natasha collapsed on top of him, the two gasping for air as they slowly came down from their highs together.

"Tasha. I think you've broken me," Clint whispered when he eventually recovered his breathing, smirking when Natasha – believe it or not - giggled happily against his chest.

"You've ruined me for other man, Clint," Natasha mumbled against her lover's chest, slowly lifting her head to look at the archer. The red-head smiled at him as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers softly. Very suddenly lifting her into his arms and standing up, making the red-head squeal like a girl in surprise at his actions. "Clint!" Natasha squealed as said man carried her to the bathroom, pressing his lips to the back of her head lovingly as he turned on the large bath that he had installed in every bathroom in the emergency that she needed to stay over at his place when they were working on paperwork or mission debriefs.

Natasha held onto her lover's neck as he sat down on the side of the bathtub. The archer held her close as he turned on the bath. The red-head relaxed into his body as she closed her eyes in content. She hummed her approval as Clint rubbed soft circles on the small of her back lovingly.

Once the bath was full, Clint climbed into it, holding Natasha close to his body as they sunk into the warm water. Natasha rested her head back against his chest, their arms rested on her stomach, fingers interlaced lovingly as they let their bodies relax and recover.

Clint pressed a soft kiss to the back of Natasha's head as he reached for a wash cloth, smiling into his lover's hair. He slowly began to wash her body, carefully going over the scars he knew that she hated so much. The archer smiled as his partner relaxed further into his touch, leaning back into his touch as she let him take care of her. He cleaned her slowly while holding her body protectively and possessively. He had her now and he didn't want to let her go.

Natasha sighed in content as she let Clint wash her body, knowing and trusting her lover with every aspect of her body: he practically worshipped her body. The red-head didn't realise that she had fallen asleep until she felt herself being lifted and carried into the bedroom, her body wrapped in a soft towel that she had once bought him as a present.

She leaned into his touch as he lay her down on the bed, the archer gently guiding her under the blanket and comforter, smiling when she nuzzled her face against him. He had climbed under the comforter with her, smiling when she rolled into his arms, sneaking her head under his chin, one arm thrown across his chest, a leg over his hips. He, in return, wrapped his arms around her waist, counting her breaths until she fell asleep in his arms. he watched her face smooth out softly. This had been the first time since their stolen night of passion that he had seen her this relaxed. And Clint vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to make her relax like this at every chance he got…

* * *

Clint had fallen asleep sometime after Natasha, content that he could hold her in his arms and not get shot because of it. He'd also woken up before Natasha, something that never happened. Ever. Not even in Budapest. ' _Maybe it's because we're not hiding our feelings for each other,_ ' he thought to himself. Sometime during the night, they had moved in their sleep, he to his left and Natasha to her right. She was still curled up against his chest while their legs had been entangled. Her hands rested over his chest, and her lips were parted slightly. Clint knew he had never seen anything quite like this before Natasha.

He gently brought one hand up and pushed a few stray locks from her face. Then he carefully brought his hand up and down her side, simply wanting to touch her – and not for sexual reasons, at least not when she was asleep. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before leaning back slightly to watch her as her eyes fluttered beneath her eyelids.

Natasha signed as she slowly woke up, her body warm and relaxed for the first time in a long time. She nuzzled her face into what she presumed was her pillow but was instead met with the hard, muscled chest of her partner, immediately reminding her of what they did the previous night. She smiled sleepily against his chest when she felt him brush his hand over her back gently. Slowly, Natasha raised her head to look at her partner, smiling softly as she found Clint wide awake and watching her tenderly. "Hi," she whispered softly, finding herself surprisingly shy in the presence of the archer. That had never happened before. Except, for Budapest.

"Morning, Tasha," he whispered, leaning down and pecking her lips lovingly. He could get used to this every morning for the rest of his life.

"How long have you been watching me?" she asked, remembering how he had been watching her as she woke up.

"Not much longer than five minutes. I like watching you sleep. You looked peaceful, more relaxed than I have seen you since Budapest," Clint replied, returning her smile as she pushed him onto his back and leaned on his chest. She crossed one arm over his chest, leaning her head on it, while using her free hand to trace the features of his face.

"I feel the most relaxed than I have in a long time, Clint," she whispered, leaning down and kissing him softly. She slowly pulled back, smiling softly at him. "I don't have to return to base until next week," she added, smirking when he hummed his approval. Suddenly, she pulled back, cursing as she did. "Shit. I'd arranged to train with Steve this morning," she explained, noticing his frown of concern.

Clint closed his eyes and sighed. He knew he shouldn't be jealous but he couldn't help it; he was a washed up old carnie and Steve was a super soldier Adonis. What did Natasha even see in him? "I shouldn't keep you away from your new partner," he commented, pulling away from her reluctantly.

Natasha frowned and shook her head, making him look at her. "I can cancel. I'd rather be with you. Not someone Fury or the Council assigned me because you'd been distant," she informed her. She brought one hand down to his chest, directly over his heart. "I'm not going anywhere, Clint." Clint nodded, pecking her lips softly before she pulled away again. "We need food. We need to replenish the calories we burnt last night," she added with a cheeky grin, slowly climbing off of him.

Clint smiled as he watched Natasha sit up, grabbing his T-shirt off the floor before she climbed out of bed. He couldn't help the caveman like thoughts of appreciation as she walked around his bedroom, dressed only in his T-shirt. "I could get used to this, Tasha," he teased good-naturedly.

Natasha tossed a knowing smirk over her shoulder at Clint. "Caveman," she told him, walking back over to the bed from where she had been collecting her clothes from last night. "You'd never let us out of bed if I was here the whole time," she added, leaning down and kissing him softly.

Clint pulled her down on top of him, grinning when she squealed against his lips. She moved her legs so she was straddling his lap. She moaned into his mouth as he slid his tongue over her lips. She couldn't stop the whimper of pleasure as she grinded down on him, the light blanket covering him the only thing that was separating them. "Can you blame me, Tasha? I've managed to get the woman beneath the façade of the _Black Widow_ to fall in love with me. I think I have the right to want this every day."

Natasha grinned and broke the kiss to laugh at his words, shaking her head playfully. "Your ability of words never fail to amaze me, Clint," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. "But I agree. I could get used to this too," she added.

Clint grinned. Maybe being jealous was a good thing sometimes. When the outcome ended in spending time with Natasha in bed. "You're. Mine," he murmured against her lips as he claimed them once more, not wanting her to let her go.

Natasha fought him for dominance of their kiss, her tongue battling with Clint's as he brought his other hand up to her left breast. He rubbed his thumbs over her hardening nipples teasingly, making the red-head groan her approval against his lips in reply.

Breaking the kiss for nanoseconds, if even that, Natasha tore the shirt from her body before letting Clint reclaim her lips hungrily. Their teeth and tongues clashed sloppily as they worked together to pull the sheets from between them.

Natasha moaned as she sunk down on Clint's length. She gasped his name in pleasure as he filled her to the hilt. She brought her hands to his shoulders, her nails digging in as she slowly began to move against him.

Clint brought his hands to Natasha's ass, helping her find a rhythm that quickly had both of them moaning loudly in pleasure. Planting his feet on the bed, the archer grinned against her lips when she groaned her approval into his mouth.

Suddenly, Clint them over so he was on top. Never pulling his body away from hers, he thrust slowly inside her, making her moan as he moved deep inside her. Taking her hands in his, he brought them to either side of her head in the pillows beneath her head. His grey eyes, black with love and desire, locked with her green ones that were full of the same emotions and passion.

Natasha brought her right hand to the nape of Clint's neck, pulling him closer as their bodies moved together. Her nails dug into his tanned skin, her paleness a stark contrast to his bronze sheen. She hiked her left leg over his shoulder, groaning her approval as her actions sent her lover deeper inside her. He grunted his own approval as he brought one hand down to cup the firm curve of her ass, thrusting harder and faster inside her, acknowledging her requests.

Breaking the kiss, Natasha tossed her head back in pleasure as her lover hit all the right spots inside her. Her wordless cries of pleasure combined with his animal-like grunts were driving her wild, quickly making her lose all control of her body.

"Oh God. Clint," she moaned, gasping as he left more marks along her neck and jawline. "I'm close. Fuck, I'm close."

Clint grunted in reply, planting his free hand beside Natasha's head. Thrusting harder, he began to whisper naughty things in her ear. "Come on, Tasha. Let go. I know you want to. I know that you want to come all over my cock. You gonna be a good girl and come on my cock," he whispered teasingly, ending each request with a particular hard thrust.

Natasha's mouth opened in a wordless cry as her back arched high off the bed. She came hard around Clint's cock, her walls tightening like a vice around him. He groaned and thrust two, three more times before planting himself deep inside her. A second orgasm hit Natasha hard as she felt Clint pump inside her, causing the red-head to cry out his name. Her nails dug into his skin as she rode out the waves.

Clint collapsed on top of Natasha, his face buried in between her breasts. They lay like that for what felt like days, taking in their post-coital bliss. The red-head moved her leg from over his shoulder to around his waist, cradling her lover to her body as the only sound in the room was their heavy recovering panting.

* * *

Neither knew how long it was before Clint slowly pulled out of her, making Natasha whine at the loss of contact. Pressing his lips to her sternum, he got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. Returning with a washcloth, he took his time cleaning her up.

Natasha smiled as she watched and let Clint clean her up. He was gentle with his touch, taking his time with her. Smiling, she leaned up and stole a soft, chaste kiss from him. He smiled against her lips, pressing her back down onto the bed.

"Behave, Tasha," he whispered huskily against her lips. Grinning softly, he pulled away from her, making her whine at his actions.

"And you call me the tease," she stated as he returned the washcloth to the bathroom.

"You are," he stated when he came out of the bathroom. Climbing onto the bed and on top of her, kissing his way up her body until he reached her lips. "You drive me mad. Even when we're not in the same room. Ever since Budapest. I think a few months before it as well," he added, grinning when she hummed her agreement against his lips.

"Mmmm. You're welcome," she whispered as they broke the kiss. She smiled at him lovingly as he leaned his face in between the valleys of her breasts. He pressed soft kisses to her skin, smiling as he started to hum softly against her skin. Bringing one hand up, she gently trailed her nails along his scalp, her actions earning a purr of approval from her lover. "You're like a puppy," she informed him as he nuzzled her skin lovingly.

"Then I'm your puppy," he whispered against her chest. He nuzzled her breasts lovingly, smiling as she moaned softly in reply. "Tasha. I love you," he whispered, hooking his arms around his waist.

Natasha smiled and moved her head to look at him. "I love you too, Clint," she whispered, leaning down and kissing his lips softly. "You have no reason to be jealous of Steve. He's nice and everything but he's not you. He's more like a brother than anything else," she added, making Clint raise an eyebrow at her in surprise.

"You didn't just friendshipzone the Captain America, you brotherzoned him," he commented, making Natasha laugh loudly at his words.

"Yeah. I guess I just did," she replied, leaning down and stealing another chaste kiss from her lover. "Now, I don't know about you but I'm starving," she added, pouting at him when he simply grinned at her.

"Pancakes, strawberries and chocolate syrup?" he offered, pressing a soft kiss to the space between her perfect breasts. He smiled when she nodded, her eyes widening in surprise; he knew she had a sweet tooth. "Okay. Get dressed," he ordered, sliding off of her and the bed. He smiled as Natasha whined at the loss of touch but she followed him, grabbing his shirt again. "You remember what happened the last time you wore that shirt?" he teased as she made her way past him.

Natasha tossed a smirk over her shoulder as she left the bedroom. "Of course I do. But I promise a repeat when you feed me with those pancakes," she promised, making Clint grin; he really like that offer.

"You were right earlier, Tasha. If you were here the whole time I'd never let us out of bed," he commented, putting on a clean pair of boxers and following Natasha out into his kitchen. "Actually, I think that would be the best excuse for not working. ' _Too sexually sated to work_.' Fury would have a field day," he commented, walking over to the fridge and grabbing the cartoon of orange juice. He walked over to the counter where Natasha was sitting. "What do you think?" he asked, pouring her a glass of juice; he really did know what she liked.

Natasha couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her partner. "Is that offer to move in?" she asked, watching him carefully.

Clint pushed her legs apart slightly, so he could be closer to her. "Yes. It is. I want us, Tasha. That doesn't mean you have to give up your apartment in Little Ukraine or the safe house in Washington or any safe house for that matter. I just want to hold you every night I can and wake up with you every morning we can manage to have to ourselves."

Natasha bit her bottom lip as she thought about it. She liked that idea. But they would have to adjust to their new relationship first. Shouldn't they? "I want to say yes. But this. We've only begun this. Only begun us. What if…?" she asked, trailing off.

Clint cupped her cheeks. "Whenever you're ready, Tasha. I just want you to know I'm willing," he whispered, pecking her lips softly. "I want us in any way you will allow," he whispered softly against her lips.

Natasha smiled and nodded. "Give me a month and I let you know," she whispered before pulling away. "Now. Feed me," she commanded teasingly.

Clint grinned happily; he was willing to do this for the rest of his life. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

Maybe being jealous sometimes wasn't so bad after all…

 **You know, I never thought I would ever use my studies of** _ **Othello**_ **in any of my stories. Turns out I was wrong. I hope you all enjoyed this one-shot. I even got to put in a bit of Budapest.  
And to marvelousbones, I hope this was what you were looking for when you asked for a jealousy fic :)**

 **Next: A New Life :)**


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